


Athetosis

by ninayoshi



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Blood, Bottom Hannibal Lecter, Bottom Will, But consensual, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, Demon Hannibal Lecter, Demon Sex, Demon Will Graham, Demons, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, Fluff, Going to Hell, Gore, Hannibal produces slick in chapter 2, Happy Ending?, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mind Control, More Murder, Murder, Murder-Suicide, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Possessive Hannibal, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Psychic Bond, Public Sex, Rimming, Rough Sex, Top Hannibal, Top Will Graham, Violence, Vore, Weird Biology, a lot of it, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2019-12-25 21:13:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18269441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninayoshi/pseuds/ninayoshi
Summary: Will buries Hannibal’s bones by his garden. He couldn’t let go. How could he, when his beloved— his other half— did not survive the fall. Hannibal did not survive him.Thus it begins, the ritual of resurrection and of desperation. What Will finds on the other side is not always what it seems.Inspired by Crywolf’s song of the same name, where Will dabbles in a bit of bad bad mojo and raises the dead. A prequel of sorts to the actual fic I’m writing for JustFuckMeUp 2019, ‘coz who doesn’t want good ol’ raise-em-fuck-em fic amirite fellas.tl;dr Will is sad, summons demon!Hannibal, sex happens.





	1. Athetosis

**Author's Note:**

> Oh god this is a runaway train of thought that I can never chase back. First time writing a smut fic in a long time... please enjoy Will’s Faustian hubris.

 

> _This cloudy morn_  
>  _I threw your bones outside_  
>  _A ritual in the garden soil_  
>  _Oh, my love_  
>  _I always come back to you_  
>  _And oh, sweetheart_  
>  _How long will you fight?_
> 
> \- Athetosis [here’s the lullaby you made me promise never to write]

It had been six months since that fateful night. Two souls intertwined under the moonlight, covered with the blood of their quarry, sailing through the salt-tinged air and the crashing echoes of waves below, falling, falling...

Despite lying on his all-too-familiar bed at Wolf Trap, Virginia, he felt like he was still falling all those months ago. He stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. Lost.

Will repeated the same scenario in his head. Again, and again. He could still feel Hannibal’s hand on his hips, clutching tight on his blood-stained shirt— both of their blood on him, and Francis’—, could still the warm breath against his scarred cheek, of the words uttered so quietly he thought the wind would disperse them forever, away from his ears.

_“See. This is all I ever wanted for you, Will. For the both of us.”_

He squeezed his eyes shut. Tears threatened to spill, and his eyes had been stinging from so much being spilt. But it was never enough, was it? No amount of grieve could reconcile the loss of Hannibal.

_“For the both of us.”_

Will cried himself to sleep that day. As most days tend to be.

* * *

 

In the Baltimore State Hospital Will seemed impassive on the surface. Everyone at the FBI congratulated him for his excellent tactic at bringing down not just one, but two of the most dangerous men.

Will barely responded to anyone. Not a single word uttered, as though his voice had died along with Hannibal.

After an arduous month of staying in the hospital to be hounded by media and the police alike, Will was discharged. Alana offered her help, to which he was silently grateful for despite everything.

Will had not been doing much, laying in bed drunk and inconsolable, Alana trying to clean up his mess and initiate therapy, before letting his dogs out for a walk and some food, then leave for work. The same vicious cycle, unbroken by a broken man.

The only time he ever spoke was when Will requested ownership over Hannibal’s bones. Jack pitied the poor agent, having pushed him beyond what everyone said (especially what Alana has said years ago), so he allowed Will the only thing that remains of Hannibal. His properties, books, drawings, are all to be kept as evidence behind the FBI vault. At least, that was what Jack and Will was aware of. Will clings onto those bones as his only lifeline. Obsessively, Alana observed, now sitting across from Will as she watched him sleep fitfully. “Will, I’ve brought some books that I had scavenged from Hannibal’s library.” Will shifted under his sheets, and bright blue eyes reddened with sleeplessness and grief catches Alana’s carefully happy ones. “I don’t know what I had picked, I just... Grabbed some and left.” Alana continues with a polite smile, gesturing towards the random assortments of literature and poems contained in a large duffle at her side. His gaze immediately lands on the bag, but still he said nothing.

“I’ve fed the dogs, cleaned up your dishes, bought some groceries as well- please do eat more, Will- and brought you some books.” Her mouth opened again, as though she had something to add, but decided against it. Were she to push, Will would have vehemently returned the favour and close his doors. Grief takes five stages, and Will was still at the first.

“Call me if you need anything else.” With that she left, her perfume lingered for a while in the air. Will watched her leave, watched as his dogs say their happy goodbyes at her, and heard the tires crunching against gravel, speeding away. Far, far away.

He leapt onto his feet, rubbing at his face. Hannibal’s literary collection. Words that fed the psychiatrist’s philosophies and musings. It was almost like taking a peek at his journals and read his mind. For the first time in a long while, he felt as though he could do something other than wallowing in this self-contained prison.

Will had decided to take on reading.

* * *

  
Greek epics of lovers scorned, gods’ petty squabbles, and a mortal reminder that fate had no qualms in taking what was given. These books filled him with a sense of wonder and a horrible dread in the pit of his stomach. It was not just due to the wonderful (and sometimes purple) prose that weave into his imagination, but because it had always reminded Will of where he is now. Or where he rather be.

”He would have asked my opinions on Heracles and his Trials.” He mused, feeling a rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Reminiscing about the good old times lifted some of that ache in his heart.

He finished the Grecian fantasies, casually picking through the rest and wondering what else Hannibal reads on his spare time.

His hand landed on the Necronomicon.

Will was startled at the leather covering that stated the word ‘Necronomicon’ so plainly in the daylight. A laugh bubbled from within him, laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, of what Hannibal had tried to read, of this foolish book that harkens the evil and the damned. This fictional book that mocked at Will for being engrossed in the idea of death that he could never divorce his thoughts, his soul, from the permanence of the departed.

He places the tome on his lap, laughing wryly, before fading into a frustrated sigh and a single sob. “What were you thinking, Hannibal? This book doesn’t sound like you at all.”

Hannibal had mentioned the reversal of entropy and time, of shattered teacups. Of which Will did break a lot. Too often. Just to see whether they come back together again, to hear Hannibal’s voice repeating the metaphorical reunion they never had. It never came back the same, warped by imperfect recollection. It sounded less and less like Hannibal and more like a recording with the same false inflection.

He stared at the book. No, this actually made sense. An act of forgiveness, a symbolic one. In some other world Abigail returns. In some other world (maybe, even this world), Hannibal as well. Whatever it takes. Hell, trying it out would be closure as well, isn't it.

Will found himself arguing at impossibilities. “This isn’t a real book anyways...” He muttered angrily, but started pouring over the contents.

A dark obsession grips at his heart and soul. Rituals of inexplicably garish detail, down to the exact time and shape of when a slaughter was required to take place, of dark magics that made Will shiver in the summer heat. Terrifying depictions of torture, of Hell, and Will immediately throws the book across the room. He felt like he sank into an oily muck, having these kind of knowledge violate his mind.

Will was about to throw up. This was not like getting into a serial killer’s head. It was akin to skipping straight into Hell and envisioning what each and every demon would do to his poor twisted soul. He had seen the purest evil, the ultimate sin. He had seen...

“Undeath.”

* * *

  
It was a cloudy morning, where the mist crept in like white fingers across the land. It embraced the dull green and sapped colour until everything became a uniform grey. A dreary morning for a dreary task he was about to perform.

The ritual was just about set. Will carried a metal bowl, a couple of matchboxes, Hannibal’s bones (very important), the book and a knife. The bones were wrapped in one of his clothes and set it down amongst the other ritual items. His knees sank into the soft loam, fingers clawing at the dirt so the hole would be large enough to dump it all in.

It felt like closure. But closure does not entail a ritual that involved raising the dead. Will considered the absurdity of it all. A ritual to raise Hannibal from the dead? He supposed the good old doctor would turn in his new shallow grave as Will puts up a spectacle of a lifetime, if that was even the right word. He snorted derisively, mostly at himself for considering such foolishness. Hannibal would probably appreciate the theatricality of it all, if he was watching. 

He buried the bones loosely, piling palm-sized pebbles picked up from a nearby stream around the grave. Sticks were added next, in a specific pattern that was outlined by the book. There was some semblance of purpose to all these. However, all he saw was a mess and that he was about to make a campfire out of his bones. “This is dumb...” Will commented, mussing his hair with dirty hands before pulling out a matchbox. He tried to light the first match, the second, third... It would not light. Of course it would not, even light and heat feared to produce themselves here.

The last matchstick miraculously lit up and held a steady flame, bursting for the first few seconds before Will flicks it at the rickety pyre, anxious as to what would happen next. Some sort of effigy? Hannibal’s spectral form? Hell, Abigail?

The match fizzles out anti-climatically. “Of course it fucking does.” Will peruse the book once more to see what was next. “Blood of kin.” Hannibal did not have any kin in this country, and he mentioned his family had already perished long time ago. Maybe he should have went back to Lithuania to retrieve his sister’s bones. He rolled his eyes at that thought. It was far too vulgar.

He dug the hunting knife, one that had once carved a smile against his abdomen, and pushes it deep into his wrist. The pain was too familiar to him, dwelling on it any longer brings back far too many memories. He lets the crimson drops fall onto the unlit pyre, not thinking much about it. It’s all smoke and mirror bullshit anyways.

Will just wanted to cling onto hope, however false, just to see Hannibal again.

He sat in the clammy cold, watching aimlessly at the pathetic pile right in front of him. It was so deafeningly silent that his ears began to ring. Tinnitus from years of shooting at serial killers must have finally caught up to him.

Only when it got unfortunately louder that he realised it might not be tinnitus at all. Will squeezed his eyes, thinking it might be some lightheadedness. This too shall pass, as with all things.

” _Fuck-_ “

It droned on to an impossibly loud noise, like metal grating against metal, screaming in his ears. His dogs were not responding. This must be whatever that his brain is conjuring up. Gritting his teeth, Will covered his ears, wishing the noise to just stop-

The pyre burned a dark red, the crackle drowning out the noise. It was roaring, snarling, leaping, and it was growing exponentially. Will scrambled back in panic. This shouldn’t happen, this should never happen, it was just a symbolic ritual to bury his past, to bury Hannibal.

A figure loomed from within the flames, at first a small pitiful thing that was squirming at the heart of the flames, now unfolding into a man-shaped shadow. Its antlers were disgustingly familiar, and it’s (his, they were his) eyes bore through Will.

By now the noise had dropped into hushed susurrus, as Will knelt in front of the shadowed being he had come to associate Hannibal with. Hannibal. He had returned.

It (he?) stepped out of the flame and it immediately snuffed out, and the anguished man could finally see the thing for what he is. An imposing figure, his antlers outstretched into the heavens like gnarled fingers grasping at the mist. His eyes were blank but so unmistakably his, and his skin was soot black. Will dared not look further down. He was enraptured by his truest form. 

“Hello, Will.” The figure broke the silence with a lilt of amusement. The same voice as he had always heard in his dreams, his nightmares. 

“Hannibal...” The figure in front of him became blurrier as hot tears fervently fell from his eyes. This was impossible, nature defied and defiled. There was never a way to raise the dead and yet, whatever or whoever was brought back from the other world, if it was indeed Hannibal... It was good enough.

"You missed me so much you had decided to use a ritual, however meaningless and futile, to give you hope. One that fulfilled your desire to see me once more." His voice was methodically calm, as though words were carefully chosen to plucked at Will's heart. He could only nod in response, dumbfounded and so very overwhelmed.

Hannibal grinned, his inhuman fangs bared for him to see. Will shuddered at that, it made him feel like prey. Hannibal always had, with his cruel machinations and manipulations, always ten steps ahead of the chase and yet he was able to make Will feel like he was the one being chased.

"Come." A clawed hand extended towards him, beckoning. With shaky legs he stumbled forward, unable to disobey, grabbing the unusually strong and sinewy arm as he fell into an embrace. Hannibal's skin felt like warm stone on a summer's day, and the sensation was lulling him into a sense of serenity that he had not found for a long time. 

_I missed you so much, it hurts. It tore me from the inside knowing that the other half of me will never return. I lost myself._ His thoughts were left unsaid, but Hannibal's gentle hand combed through the untamed curls of his. He could stand here for an eternity, and if this was simply a psychotic break, he would rather stay that way.

There was a subtle shift of pressure in the air and when Will looked up, Hannibal's human features returned, suit, tie and all. Devilishly dapper. His features were still otherworldly, a stark reminder that whatever this ritual had brought forth was not living. Hannibal’s eyes were a brilliant red, like two darkened rubies. His pupils were like a cat’s, narrow slits unmoving and staring back at Will. Such an enthralling creature, Will thought to himself as the doctor’s lips curled into a proud smile, leaning down to kiss. Will obliged; there was nothing else that could stop them from finding each other. Not even death. 

The kiss was hurried, hungry, and emotions surging from within unsaid, only to be exchanged though saliva and soft breaths. His tongue was particularly dexterous, and he wondered vaguely if the chaste kisses they had exchanged between the hellos and goodbyes of each session were supposed to be like this. Will took whatever Hannibal could give. So many opportunities lost and never to return. A rare second chance like this will never be given up. They separated briefly, to Will's chagrin, but it allowed him to catch his thoughts and breathe. Hannibal stayed impassive (of course he would, nothing would ever perturb him, not even a kiss like that).

"I missed you."

"I know."

"I've never thought I would miss someone like you." 

"I know," Hannibal repeated, his tone soft.

"Don't leave me again."

"I have never left." Another kiss, this time far more passionate. Hannibal gripped at his jaw with that strength of his, ensnaring Will in a suffocating kiss. Oh, he vaguely thought to himself, that tongue is _forked_ , and it was incredibly arousing. Whatever essence of Hannibal’s soul he had summoned was irrevocably changed, perhaps to suit the real cannibal serial killer self that he hid so carefully behind bespoke person-suits. He had barely time to breathe, finding himself moaning and grinding back at his hips. He was pleasantly surprised at the same gesture returned by the supposedly stoic Hannibal Lecter, but that joy was shortlived as the hand at his jaw shoved forward, pitching Will backwards to fall onto the dirt. His hand was still firmly grasping his jaw, almost painfully so now. Panic began to swell from his chest, shaky breaths trying to draw air for fight or flight.

"I know your desires keenly, Will. We desired each other since we first met, I with fascination, and you with morbid curiosity." Hannibal kept him pinned with one hand, easily tearing away the soft fabric that covered Will's modesty. "I will give whatever you want."

"What do you want in return?" The same game with a different name. Hannibal will demand some thing from Will, in return there will be some revelation that transcends them. Will could not stop shaking, whether it was out of fear or anticipation he could not tell. Fear and anticipation are afterall two sides of the same biochemical coin, both emotions allowing the body to instinctively react to stimulus. Right now, Will's body was reacting to Hannibal.

"Your obedience. Let me take your body," His mouth hovered over clammy skin, towards the thin sensitive skin at Will's neck. "Your blood," His teeth sharpened like daggers, scratching at a spot that made Will's cock twitch in delight (and fear? Once again, both.) "And your soul."

"Yes," Will gasped out his answer. Hannibal raised his eyebrow, dark eyes meeting blue ones.

"Yes?"

"Yes, to all of it. My obedience-" Will barely uttered out his answer before the hand shifted to the base of his neck and squeezed tightly, just as those damned sharp teeth sank into the soft connecting flesh between his shoulder and neck. The asphyxiation was heady and almost painfully so, combined with the confusing pain-pleasure near his neck, he could only moan weakly. He could hear his heartbeat picking up, trying to push blood back into his brain, but it only went into Hannibal's mouth. The dark edges of unconsciousness crept in fast, and if he died right here and then, it would be both a blessing and a shame.

Hannibal lets go at the last moment before Will passed out, showing his red grin back at the semi-conscious man as blood and pleasure finally rushed back to Will's senses. "Good. Then I shall partake. In return, you will have all the pleasure I denied you."

" _Oh god-_ " Will whimpered when Hannibal's hot mouth ghosted over his clothed chest, going further and further down. At the mention of God he only let out a brief chuckle. "There is no God here," His tongue laved over the tip of Will's swollen cock, grinning smugly once more. "Only me."

Will bucked right into his hot and obscenely wet mouth, disgusted at how aroused he was just mere moments with Hannibal. He vaguely chalked it up to the fact that he missed Hannibal's  _everything_ but that cruel mouth of his. It barely applied any pressure at the tip, making Will whine in frustration.

"Hannibal, please, just-" _Just suck me off and be done with it already_. He gritted his teeth, trying to thrust right into his mouth once again but was stopped short by an insistent press of his hand. He could not move his hips forward, and that frustrated Will even further. To what end was Hannibal going to tease him to? Until he was going literally insane over this?

"Patience." Hannibal murmured against flushed skin, tongue moving from base to tip before swallowing him entirely in one fell swoop. Will threw his head back, body arching. He could come like this, just this, with his mouth-

And then Hannibal pulled away once again. Will's body sagged in defeat, realising that when Hannibal said he would give the pleasure he denied, he meant denying him right now before giving him what he wanted. 

He uttered a noise of annoyance, glancing down to see why Hannibal was stopping at all, when that sly tongue of his probed at his hole and he let out an embarrassing choked noise. He is now too acutely aware that they are outside his house, doing _this_. What if Alana decided to drop by earlier than usual and caught Hannibal’s tongue in his ass and Will writhing around like a dying man?

”Will, you’re overthinking,” Hannibal chided lightly, pushing his legs further apart. “Why are you so ashamed now when you had wantonly tried to fuck my mouth?”

Obscenities were a rarity from Hannibal’s mouth, so when he heard that word spilling forth from his mouth his cock responded in kind. Derogatory remarks from Hannibal are often alluded and metaphorical, but they are never this _dirty_.

As though catching onto the strings of his thoughts, Hannibal continued with increased fervour, but his expression remained carefully neutral aside from his pink cheeks. “Will Graham, do you like it when I speak such depravity at you? A slut like you would come even without my cock in you. In fact, you wouldn’t need much to come from. With my fingers-“ His slender fingers prodded at the barely wet hole, pressing in dry, eliciting a cry of pain from Will.

The pain was very quickly replaced by the intense pleasure when Hannibal curled his finger, his hips grinding back for more. His hole clenched greedily, luring him in. And lured he was, as Hannibal ducked his head between his legs, and Will was too keenly aware at what he was going to do.

“My tongue-“ The forked tongue returned to press in alongside his finger. That slick muscle spread him apart, massaging their way through the tightness. It was a wildly different experience and not a terribly awful one. The pressure and pleasure was relentless, hitting Will by the waves. Yet Hannibal only brought him to the cusp of that orgasm so desperately sought-after, dangling it in front of Will like salvation.

”Please, please Hannibal, stop teasing me, just fuck me already.” Will reached down to tug at Hannibal’s hair, pulling him up so he could see him, him in all his sadistic glory, this maddening man who tore him apart and stitched him back like clockwork.

It gave him time to regain his thoughts, jumbled about once again by Hannibal’s undoing. His eyes darted away, staring at everything but those unusual pupils of his. Still holding onto his head he finally spoke, the man opposite of him silent and still, waiting patiently.

“You said something about my soul.”

”Yes.” 

“What do you mean?”

Hannibal merely smiled, eyes narrowing as though to say _you know very well, Will, what you had gotten yourself into_.

Will worried his bottom lip. The Necronomicon did mention about Hell, about how people once damned would have become one of those... Those things. He had been denying to himself that truth, that Hannibal would damned him as well. 

As though his thoughts were spilled from his mind, Hannibal reassured him. “Your soul was already damned, Will. Our souls were entwined since that fateful night.” He crawled up his body, almost feline-like and with a purr he continued.

”No one can claim you, not even Hell. You are mine, beloved.”

The possessiveness dripped from Hannibal like a slavering dog awaiting his meal, drenching Will with nervousness. What will this entail? Their futures had been uncertain ever since they found each other, despite Hannibal’s ‘well-intentioned’ efforts. The clinking of an unbuckling belt and the sound of a zipper unravelling broke him away from his thoughts.

Before he could inquire further Hannibal’s cock was jutting against the meat of Will’s ass and he immediately tensed. 

“Trust me, Will.” 

He shook his head. “I don’t know what... What will become of me.”

”Then allow me to show you. You will be transformed once more in death, just as you had in life.”

Will finally met Hannibal’s unwavering gaze, and realised that the last chance to have him by his side, his _nakama_ , before this reverie breaks and Hannibal disappears back into the world of the dead. He can’t have that happen again. Not when he is here, when they can share an eternity together.

”Together.” Will let out a frightened sigh. “In Hell. Terrifying place to spend our next lives really.”

Hannibal huffs in amusement, kissing him gently. Another reassurance, another confirmation. “Nothing will hurt us.” He pressed in despite Will tensing up. 

“Nn— Hannibal wait—“ Will shifted his hips in an effort to be comfortable.

”Can’t.” For the first time Hannibal seemed to be undone, the arms that bracketed Will shook and his head sagged forwards, brow furrowing in agonising concentration. He had moved slow enough for Will to relax just a little more. That was all he needed to bottom out, and both of them gasped in unison.

”Tight. So very tight, Will.” Hannibal was definitely affected, his breathing was already out of sync with his usual demeanour. Will took pride in making Hannibal so terribly flustered, just as the other man took pride in shaping him into what he is. He was sure he himself looked as wrecked as Hannibal, if not more so.

He took a deep breath, arms wrapping around Hannibal. Burying his face in his broad shoulder he muttered into the warm skin.

”I’m ready.”

Hannibal pulled and pushed, as predictable as waves against a beach. A rhythm that Will could accomodate, with each sweet shock coming from each slow thrust. Soft breathy moans were exchanged from the both of them, immersing themselves in unhurried pursuit of pleasure. Taking all the time in the mortal world to ensure Will’s first with Hannibal would be memorable.

When Will spread his legs far wider, an invitation for more, Hannibal began a more punishing rhythm. The man under him writhed and arched, perfectly beautiful noises to be made from between pink lips. Hannibal observed detachedly to commit each sound and movement to memory, knowing that future proclivities would involve more of such things. Sweet Will had given in to this infernal pleasure, yet he was not done. There was one final trick up his sleeve.

”Haa— Fuck, Hannibal,” Will pleaded, clinging onto Hannibal like a desperate lifeline. This salvation had been taken, swallowed whole and he wants more. The burning stretch of his asshole was something entirely out of the left field.

”W-Wait, what’s that?” Will tensed up once more even when Hannibal did not stop. It in fact egged him on, hips stuttering fervently. He looked down, confused at the extra black appendage that wrapped around from behind Hannibal and prodding at where they were connected.

”My tail.” Hannibal pointed out, slowing briefly to stretch Will mercilessly. “Like I said, Will,” He breathes out, closing his eyes to enjoy the increasing tightness between his cock and his tail. “I plan to take everything of you. This too. Let me take your pleasure as well as mine.”

Will could barely form words, not when both Hannibal’s cock and tail was inside of him, moving independent and threatening to tear and fill him at the same time. It hurts, it fucking hurts, but the pleasure was just as overwhelming. He could only cling ever tighter, nails digging hard into Hannibal’s sweat-slicked skin that he was sure he would bleed.

Hannibal made soft guttural sounds between a moan and a growl, and his hips thrusted desperately. He would not last, and neither could Will, who had already starting to be overwhelmed with white hot pleasure that kept building. It suffocated him, clutching onto the very ends of his nerves, relentless waves of pleasure during and after still assaulting his senses.

The final thrust was brutal; Hannibal arches forward, mouth parting to utter Will’s name as he came. Both cock and tail were buried deep within Will, squirming and twitching in delight at the shared pleasure between them. The man below him was already spent and exhausted, marvelling quietly as the pleasure consumed Hannibal as well. It was rare to see the doctor so... Beautiful.

They stared at each other for a while, enjoying the post-coital respite. 

“Good?” Hannibal prompted, to which Will nodded dumbly.

”Good.” He lowered himself for a kiss, pulling out. His tail flicked back and forth, betraying the excitement within him. Will separated himself from the kiss, very amused at this new sight.

”You’re like a cat. Or a dog. I can’t quite pin you down yet.”

Hannibal laughs, an honest and pure sound. One of his first as well, as Will stared at him, grinning lazily.

”In due time, my dear Will.”


	2. Mephistopheles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Graham is dead; long live Will Graham.
> 
> Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heaven.  
> \- Paradise Lost, lines 258-63
> 
> Another Crywolf song, aptly named... Hence the idea :)  
> Just in time for JustFuckMeUp 2019!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **There are suicidal implications in this chapter. Although mutually acknowledged by Will and Hannibal to their own ends, and means to a demonic end, it may still be a triggering subject. Discretion is highly advised.
> 
> The tags are updated, so take note especially vore/cannibalism (I mean do you expect anything else).
> 
> I’m taking interpretations of Hell and Lucifer from Dante’s Inferno :)

 

> _So it begins,_
> 
> _The hollow_
> 
> _Breathe in my lips,_
> 
> _Legato_  
>    
>  _Clip no more wings._
> 
> _Kill the sparrow._
> 
> _Call it the straight_
> 
> _And narrow_
> 
> _—_ MEPHISTOPHELES

 

  
They fell back into old habits. Will was thoroughly and gently cleaned up and dressed by Hannibal, although the fussing of his wardrobe selection was not spoken out loud, the disapproving look from Hannibal’s red eyes were loud in their expression.

The doctor cupped his cheek, pressed against the scar and thumbing against his ear. Will sees Hannibal now, and the Hannibal by the cliffside, and the Hannibal at his kitchen, knife in hand to tear him asunder. Memories flood his mind, his eyes, and he sees Hannibal’s turned kind, affectionate. _Missed this, missed you_.

Old habits die hard. They would never die because Hannibal wasn’t here to kill it.

Will’s stomach twisted, that sick feeling of abandonment, of guilt and hate and all the anger of the past six months, bubbled up and up. He found himself frozen by the surging emotions, grounded by that real warmth of his beloved at his cheek. Tears began freefalling and choked sobs crawling up his throat.

“Hanni-“ Will could barely speak, face scrunching up in pain. Pain that he suppressed with Adderalls and his dogs and Alana’s false sweetness and his memory palace. Hannibal merely nodded, his gaze never changing. Perhaps with pity, but it was loving, knowing. No one ever looked at Will that way, and after the fall, Will had thought no one ever would. Let him fade, disappear into the quiet of the stream, as the world passed by him, as he anchored himself at that moment where his own world ended.

“You’re a mess that I will do everything in my power to fix.” Hannibal cupped both of his cheeks now, wet with tears. It flowed despite himself, lips wobbling into a lopsided grin. The doctor smiled as well, no sharp scary teeth. Human.

“Let’s go in. I’ll cook breakfast.” He tugged Will’s hand along, entering his house to seek shelter from the elements.

Will sat by his table, a little sheepish at the mess his living space was. Hannibal had not commented on it, or anything really, only spoke to ask about what type of ingredients he had. Alana was kind enough to leave a variety, although he was sure Hannibal would prefer to procure his… ‘Ethical butcher cuts’.

The smell of eggs and sausages drifted from within the kitchen and Will’s stomach rumbled in protest. He had not notice his hunger; Hell, he rarely noticed anything about self-care for months now. As though a blindfold was lifted from his eyes, everything else came into focus. His grimy, long fingernails, his unkempt beard, his curls getting ridiculously messier and longer, touching the base of his neck now. Hannibal was right about him being a godawful mess.

He rubbed at his face, trying to rub away the embarrassment just as Hannibal appeared silently in front of him, presenting two plates of eggs and blood sausage. Will nearly jumped at that, gripping at the back of his chair tight enough until his knuckles turned white.

“Fuck, Hannibal, at least announce your arrival.”

“I apologise. A habit of mine, I suppose.”

Will huffed in annoyance, before it turned into a chuckle. Hannibal returned that sentiment, as regrets and remorse melt away into an easy sense of belonging. The setting gave him a sense of deja vu, and he realised that this was the exact place that they had first enjoyed a peaceful first meal together. It made his heart flutter ever so slightly, enamored by sentimentality. Hannibal missed Will more than he let on.

They spent their meal eating quietly. Nothing has had to be said, and Will preferred not to speak. Speaking requires him to come to terms with a lot of things, a lot that he is still not prepared to. Hannibal understands that perfectly, and respectfully gave him the space to pace around.

Although Will had wished that Hannibal began to unravel him once again, letting the doctor’s word speak for him. Through him, like light through glass, to make everything clear.

Hannibal ducked his head slightly to meet Will’s downcast gaze. “Penny for your thoughts, Will.” The silent that stretched on was Will’s response, to which Hannibal continued unperturbed. “You have not have the chance to grieve properly. To isolate yourself and fall into disrepair is… Very upsetting to see.”

Will forked at a piece of sausage, poking until the scrambled eggs under it turned to mash. “I know. Like you said, I’m a mess.”

“The best way to declutter your mind is to declutter the place where it rests.” Hannibal offered, taking a sip of freshly brewed coffee.

Will suppressed a smile but failed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Out of sight, out of mind.”

Hannibal took another piece of egg and sausage into his mouth, teeth catching slightly at the metal. “Yes.”

Will wanted to add on that ‘it doesn’t work when it comes to you, and everything pertaining you’, but his mind had already worked out the conclusion to that puzzle: Will is the remainder of Hannibal’s various manipulations and resistance. He sighs, putting down his fork and massaging the bridge of his nose.

“Headache?” A concerned tone, to which Will brushed it off easily.

“I mean, you fucked me right out there, wanted to eat me up and take my soul to eternal damnation, yet here we are, ‘god forbid we are friendly’, right?” Before Hannibal could speak, he held up a hand. The dam was broken and now everything spills. “So many things had happened that we did not give voice to, and we assumed the other knew. Know what we are getting into. And now we’re domestic, ignoring everything else.”

A wry smile as Will leaned back, and Hannibal sat rigid, staring intently. What was this outburst about? Fuck, a mess he is, and his mind definitely decluttering.

He mussed his own hair, looking out at the sliver of light past his drawn curtain. Out into the foggy morning. “How are you going to kill me?”

“With mercy. A slit throat.” Hannibal spoke without hesitation.

“No, Hannibal, what do _you_ want?” Will gritted his teeth. He knew already; and yet Hannibal denied himself because… Because what?

“You can’t hide from me. I know. Why don’t you just admit you wanted to tear me into pieces and eat my heart? Am I so weak, so fragile like the teacup-“ He could feel his voice rising ever louder, heart thumping with unresolved rage.

“Will-“

“No, shut up, just be truthful for one goddamn second. Do you think I would be that repulsed by anything you can throw at me? Do you fear my rejection so much that you refuse to show me who you really are?” Will seethed, fists curling tight until he could feel flesh part against his nails, bleeding. He glared at Hannibal, who only looked on with… Guilt?

“Yes.”

Will blinked, with a dawning revelation that Hannibal feared, still feared, what Will can hurt him with. A double-edged sword.

“I had given you my everything. It’s only fair you returned the favour.”

Hannibal was silent, and Will could see the slight tremble in his hands. Is he really that affected? Even now he is surprised. Monsters like Hannibal could get terribly hurt after all, despite everything.

A deep breath and Hannibal returned to normal. “I would very much like to tear your insides apart and eat your heart. It is only befitting that your body will give me sustenance for eternity, and your soul bound to me instead of the fires of Hell.”

This time Will smiled, genuine. A sense of warmth enveloped him, and he was sure it wasn’t the hellfire. Not yet, anyways.

“Good. When?”

“After decluttering.”

Will groaned, rolling his eyes.

 

The decluttering did not take long, surprisingly enough. Alana did a good job to maintain a semblance of tidiness in his main living space, but Will did a better job at recreating messes again. Bags of trash after trash was being thrown out, as Will’s dogs gathered around to sniff. They were, for the better part, obedient and happy to see Hannibal again, although they would never get near him. Winston, the ever bold companion, hung around them faithfully.

Will re-entered his room and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Hannibal leafing through his own books. “Interesting. Have you read them all?”

Will half-shrugged, and Hannibal smiled proudly. “Perhaps you had gained a better understanding about Grecian romance and tragedies.” Will snorted in response, folding his arms.

“We are a prime example.” Hannibal laughed, that simple sound carried such grace. Will beamed, happy.

When everything settled Will looked back at his house, immaculate and neat. Unusually so. Even dog hair did not dare to touch the floorboards of his room. “Okay, I will be dead soon, so all these will go to waste.”

“It did not. Like I mentioned, decluttering your living space will relief stress. The physical act of cleaning does wonders to an overworked mind.” Will shrugged again, but he did feel much better.

“Now, how do we do this?” Will steadily met Hannibal’s eyes, and for once the doctor was unable to hold it.

“I prefer not to rush this. It felt like…”

“Suicide?” Will raises an eyebrow. His eagerness could be attributed as such, and it has been barely a day since Hannibal returned. He sighed. “Hannibal. I want this. I want to become… This. Eternal damnation be damned.”

“Will, I am serious-“

“And I am serious as well! God we’re bickering like an old couple.” Will folded his arms, turning his back towards Hannibal. He felt his arms crowding him, and tentatively wrapping around his waist. It felt like a warm blanket fresh out of the dryer in the dead of winter, once again lulling him to sleepiness. He tilted his head back, pressing his lips against the neck.

No pulse.

Will threw himself out of Hannibal’s embrace, heart stuttering as he felt panic rising like bile. _Dead. He’s dead. Dead, at the cliff, is this real-_

Warm hands came up to hold his shaking once, and Hannibal tilted his head closer, leaving a kiss on his scarred cheek. “I apologise again. I am indeed not human, nor am I truly alive. But I am real. I am here, Will.”

“You are here.” Will breathed out, unable to stop the shaking in his voice still, but it was tempered by Hannibal’s lips against his. It stopped, and Will closed his eyes.

A slow and languid kiss, one that seeks to placate instead to incite passion. To reassure the other that they will be there for each other, with nothing left to hide. Nothing to say as well. Their souls entwined, forever and ever.

“Before I do this, I would prefer if… If you are made comfortable.” Hannibal sighed, taking off Will’s clothes, almost too carefully. Will rolled his eyes, taking the rest of it off, as Hannibal, with his demonic magic, lets his own clothes fade away to nothing. Two very naked man- well, demon and man- standing in a very clean bedroom. At least his dogs would not dirty this space again.

Will took his time to drink Hannibal in. His strong frame was deceptively gentle; the apex hunter. He knows all to well how much strength those arms could muster, and even more so now, fuelled with supernatural strength. His eyes continued further, seeing that lovely smattering of chest hair, the broad, welcoming chest that he would love to fall into, and further down, to that cock… God he was hard already. And behind him, his tail. Kinky bastard.

Hannibal’s tail swished into view, tilting his head. “Yes?”

“I think you’re like a cat.”

The doctor seemed amused. “I can be one, if you wish.”

Will balked at that, but closed the distance between them to kiss. “I prefer you as you are.”

Hannibal purred (like a goddamn cat), and their lips met once more, now with need. Their hips pushed and grind, cocks touching and smearing precum all over. They kissed until Will pulled away, panting and groaning. “This feels nice.”

Hannibal nodded, pushing harder. “Can I fuck you again?”

“No, it’s my turn.” Will laughs breathlessly, although a little taken aback when Hannibal immediately went down on his knees and hands, presenting his ass to him.

“Oh.”

“I can self-lubricate.”

“Uh.” Will could not even find words at this point in time, going down onto his knees as well to watch, with morbid lust and curiosity, how Hannibal’s hole fluttered, reddened, and slick poured out. His tail was lifted, showing Will _everything_.

So much slick. And it smells _so_ good too.

“Fuck, why didn’t you do this earlier?”

“I- _Ohhhh_.” Hannibal could barely get a word in before he felt a smooth, wet muscle prodding and slurping at the slick. Will was licking and drinking him down, opening up his asshole hastily. His hip ground backwards, wanting more of that devious tongue of his to go deeper, harder.

Will pressed his mouth flat against the hole, tongue seeking more of that delicious wetness. He is addicted to that heady taste, and he could taste more of Hannibal now than before.

“Please, Will, I don’t think I can last with your… Your cruel mouth doing this.” Hannibal begged, pausing between words to let out a needy noise. One that shot straight to Will’s cock and he moaned as well.

Will pulled away, smacked his lips obscenely and hand meeting the flesh of Hannibal’s ass with a loud smack. He could not see Hannibal’s reaction, but that tail of his shot straight up, a telltale sign that he was at least affected.

“Now who is the dirty slut?” Will grinned, as Hannibal pressed his chest against the floor, ass propped higher. More slick gushed out at those words, and Will is losing his restraint real fast.

“I am. I am your slut, Will.” If only Will could record those words and play it whenever he needed to rub one out. Not that he needed to, knowing that he could take whatever he wanted from Hannibal, as long as Hannibal shared the same sentiment.

“Fuck.” Will mussed at his hair, one hand stroking his cock enough to keep it hard and amost on the edge of too much pleasure. “I can just slide right in, seeing how wet you are.”

“That’s the intent, yes.” Even Hannibal sounded a little breathless now, and his hips cant forwards and back. “Please, Will, I want to get fucked by your cock.”

And that was the final straw. Will settled behind Hannibal, cock heavy as he sighed, readjusting with his hand to guide himself in. Even with barely any preparations Hannibal was already so loose, so eager to take his cock and fucked all ways to Sunday.

“Hannibal… Ohh…” Will let out a drawn moan as he slid deeper and deeper, the hot muscles around him clamping tighter, as though he wanted to draw him deeper, until Will could no longer push and he settled snug against Hannibal’s ass.

Both of them are panting softly, the overwhelming heat and incoming pleasure too much to keep silent from.

“Move.”

Will seemed unimpressed. “Hm?”

Hannibal cleared his throat, head tilted back to look at Will. His red eyes now blown to near-black pupils.

“Please.”

Will grunted, and sets about a quick thrust forward, pressing as deep as he could. The sound wrung from Hannibal’s throat was wonderful, a mix of moans and keening, sounds that he would never thought a man of such self-control could ever elicit. Will takes it all in, egged on by the need to hear more of those noises, knowing that it was him who unraveled Hannibal, unmake him into a simple creature of lust, is _hot_.

Hannibal’s tail thrashed wildly, almost slapping Will in the face. In a fit of annoyance he gripped onto the tail, but he did not expect the sudden hard contraction and the loud moan that Hannibal made.

 _Oh_. His tail is an erogenous zone.

Will laughed, before it faded into a moan as Hannibal shifted his hips back for more, shoving his tail further into Will’s fist.

“More, more please, Will-“

“Shush, I’ll give you more.” His pace picked up, pounding hard that the only thing Hannibal could do was to let his sounds out uninhibited by anything and take all the pounding Will could offer. The slapping of skin against skin was loud, and the squelching noise louder still. Hannibal was still dripping wet at this point in time, and it made Will groan in pleasure.

“So fucking wet, fuck…” Will gripped at his tail tightly and tugged, and Hannibal’s nails sharpened into claws to dig into the floor. A growl rumbled from deep within Hannibal’s chest, and Will only laughed.

“Hah… Hannibal, that feels good, doesn’t it? I know… I know you like pain.” Will could feel that coiled pleasure building, waiting for it’s inevitable release over and into Hannibal.

“Turn. I wanna see.” Will choked out the words, stilling his hips and holding the base of his cock tight. Not yet.

Hannibal turned around with some effort, trying not to part from Will. His skin is flushed and gleamed with sweat, and his neat hair already in disarray. His eyes traveled south, to see Will’s cock disappeared deep within him, and his tail and cock twitched in delight.

Will’s mouth as well, to finally see Hannibal so utterly lost in lust. He lets go, fucking him wildly, folding his legs against his arms and pressed forward, only using Hannibal as leverage.

And Hannibal takes it all in. The pain was insignificant compared to the rough pleasure Will offered, his tail curling tight around Will’s waist to pull him closer.

“Fuck, oh _fuck_ -“ Will grunted, as his orgasmed crept up from within, climbing ever higher into his cock. His balls tightened, his cock pulsed once, twice-

“Look at me.” Hannibal snarled, and Will’s eyes flew open just as he came.

Hannibal mirrored that expression of his, and it made Will fuck into him more, drawing out his orgasm as long as he could. He watched as the doctor’s cock jumped, spurring come all over himself, shooting so far as to land against his chin and cheek.

Hannibal looked _ruined_.

Both of them rode out their orgasms, sighing softly as the waves of intense pleasure fade into exhaustion. Hannibal’s tail finally let him go, as Will slid out with a loud ‘plop’ and they both lay down beside one another.

Truly fucked out and blissful. Will meets the relaxed expression of Hannibal’s and grinned.

“That was really good. Best sex I ever had.”

“Bar none?” Hannibal teased, and Will did a headshake/nod. He huffed, pulling both of them closer.

“You are an absolute tease, Will.”

Will only let out a chuckle.

They let the silence hang heavy in the air, letting their mess pool dirty on the ground. It would not matter in the next few minutes

“I’m ready now, Hannibal.” The other man glanced over as Will stared at the ceiling, pondering. He finally turned to meet Hannibal’s gaze, tears brimming his eyes. “I’m ready to be with you.”

Hannibal embraced him, a warm hug. It penetrated his clammy skin, deep down into his bones, lungs, organs.

The totality of this belonging drowned out everything else. It felt right, closing his eyes and accepting his fate.

He registered nothing but Hannibal and his all-encompassing warmth, holding him dearly, gently. Never letting go.

Will finally, finally opened his eyes when he could no longer feel that warmth. Only then he had realised Hannibal had torn his abdomen open, his human suit had fallen away in favour of that demonic form, his tail swiping left to right eagerly. Like a dog’s, not a cat’s, he recalled vaguely. Memories become hazy. There was no need to remember anything except Hannibal, covered with his own blood, eating his own organs, his claws seeking, tearing, until-

Will tried to speak but all he got was a mouthful of blood. The pain is so far away, Hannibal is slowly fading- _No, don’t leave_ , he tried to say, but no words came.

The last image he could cling onto, before that darkness overtook him, was Hannibal’s hands cradling his very own heart, beating its last, and biting into it with a terrifying, sonorous squelch.

* * *

 

Will.

His eyes snapped open, grasping at himself. Naked, exposed, and in Hannibal’s office? He was standing, and his eyes finally caught a familiar form- Wait, two of them.

This was a memory.

Hannibal and Will were burning papers. The night before they were destined to run. The scar at his abdomen ached. They were going to disappear. Leave everything they knew, accept what they are becoming, and start anew.

Oh, if only he knew. If only Will had decided before then.

**TRAITOR**

Will felt the words, and he saw his memory crack like glass, and he fell, and fell, and fell…

Hell was, on the contrary, not always burning hot. It was freezing, and when Will landed at the very bottom of the pit he could feel that chill bite at his very core, after all his bones broke all at once. He screamed in pain, and the only response in return was his own scream.

So alone. Terrified.

Hannibal lied. He left. He left again. Left him alone in Hell. It was no different to his life back on earth.

Will did not have the strength to do anything else but scream in agony. The pain was real, despite his physical body already dead. He gingerly felt around his bones, only to realise that he was fine. He could move, but the pain stayed.

With gritted teeth and sheer willpower (and bubbling rage directed at Hannibal), he gets up, feeling each step a dagger-like jab at his heel. He trudged on, into the darkness, until he could hear a noise.

Loud chewing, obscene and rude. He scoffed, immediately associating that to Hannibal. Oh how Hannibal would flay the person’s mouth and destroy him, and then consume-

Two large hands slammed beside him, and he froze in fear. They are… Gigantic. Each finger twice the height of Will. Even in the dim light, so far away from the Heavens, he could see the radiance it once held under its skin. His soul knew what he was looking at before himself.

“Lucifer.” He looked up and saw three heads staring back at him. Within each of his mouth chewed a person. He grinned, blood trickling down each of his chins.

**WILL GRAHAM, TRAITOR. HANNIBAL SENT YOU HERE TO SUFFER**

Will cringed at the words that echoed loud, yet held no discernible voice. “I figured.”

**BETRAYED BY ANOTHER**

**HOW HILARIOUS**

“Yeah.” Will murmured. Perhaps it was wrong to place his trust in Hannibal, especially now that he is a literal demon.

Perhaps he deserved this betrayal, knowing the strings Hannibal pulled, Will had fallen right into his manipulations yet again.

**YOUR ETERNAL PUNISHMENT IS TO LET ME SAVOUR YOUR SOUL**

Ironic. Will barely fought as those two hands grasped around his body, picking him up and dangling him by his arm. Will saw the sharp teeth that had grinded the poor souls already within them, and realised that with every pause between chewing they reform, screaming. Lucifer’s teeth slammed shut, and they all break. So easily.

“Will, when you get there, get into his belly.”

The voice was so close, it was as though he was just right _behind_ him. Will immediately glanced around, snarling. “Hannibal fuckin’ Lecter, come out before I-“

**BYE BYE WILL GRAHAM**

Will fell, and fell, and fell. Into the belly of the beast he went, eyes closed. Smiling. Oh that devious man.

Hannibal did not leave him after all.

* * *

 

Time in Hell flow sideways. That is to say, time is irrelevant and does not make sense.

Ten thousand years. Ten thousand years they had bide their time.

The belly of the beast is the safest place to be. To wrap Will in his new chrysalis, as his soul roiled and torment in its own sins.

Hannibal curled up beside Will. He can wait. He had waited since he himself fell into Hell and tortured for near eternity. He will wait until Will returns to him. He will keep waiting until they can take down the Devil himself.

Afterall, souls were indestructible. The concept of evil can be easily replaced.

They can reign in Hell as their new kings. They deserve to be.

Hannibal watched over Will’s writhing form. He will never leave him alone. Never again.

* * *

 

Hell shook and scream in surreal violence and unending despair. Two souls, the darkest of them all, tore him apart. Once the joy of Heaven, now the joy of two ravenous, starving, ambitious things. Two eternal beings that feasted on the corpse of a once-divine angel, devouring the very essence of evil.

They are not even demons now, for demons cower in fear and angels dare not tread the soiled ground.

Emerging from the carnage were two souls, towering over the shredded body of the three-headed beast. One wore a crown of antlers, the other wore a crown of feathers and darkened stars.

Both of them were the jealousy of all living and dead, carving out their very own paradise within the bowels of the slain Devil.

Hannibal stretches his new wings, feathered and so very bright, its light caressed all other circles of Hell.

Will’s metamorphosis has changed him into something else. His human-like face was bracketed with near infinite skulls of stags, looking in every and all directions. All-seeing, despite his own closed eyes. His head was crowned with the blackest stars the universe could meekly offer, and his neck a nest of oil sheen feathers. His claws and feet were not that different from Hannibal’s slender claws, and their tails were conjoined.

_Finally. Finally._

They pressed their foreheads together. Will opened his eyes. Still so human.

_Finally. Finally._

Hell chanted their union, their final forms. Their Becoming.

_Together._

Hannibal and Will smiled, tears running down their bloodstained cheeks. They kissed, feeling the sensation of one another melting together. They are here. They are finally here. Above all else, damned to Hell and back.

_Together._

Their souls fused, all pleasure, pain, betrayal, love, melded into one being. Hell screamed, victorious, for Hell is reigned by their very own, and not one of Heaven’s sullied kind.

The two-headed beast roared, tasting blood on their tongues.

Together, forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been an emotional rollercoaster!!!!! I hope y’all had fun crying as much as I did!!!


	3. Mercy/Murder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Urban legends are the cure for normalcy; something unsettling, deeply troubling, taunting the bold and the reckless, down into a rabbit hole. Most of them are untrue.
> 
> This one isn’t.
> 
> God of Murder and Mercy, they say, will be summoned as long as a promise of murder is offered.
> 
> But it is an urban legend after all... right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)c I mean, you can’t expect them to dwell in Hell for eternity right? Some bastard will try to summon Satan and out pops some murder husbands.
> 
> **WARNING FOR EXTREME GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF KILLING AND EATING CORPSES. Even though I tried to tame it.  
> WARNING FOR MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC ABUSE.  
> And this is some fucked up psychiatry Doctor Lecter...

“TattleCrime again? Jeez Louis Jesse, that website is scandalous.” Sonja scowled as Jesse sat by his bed, browsing the true crime site. The young man did not seem to hear the girl, and a pillow was thrown in his direction much to his chargrin.

”God, what? Get out of my face man. It’s not like I’m actively looking at actual murders. Just stories.” Jesse returned a scowl, which Sonja retaliated with some punches in his shoulder.

”I’m telling mom!” And she stormed off, barely allowing him to respond.

”Stupid.” He echoes after her and resumed browsing as though nothing happened.

The Chesapeake Ripper had faded into obscurity after Hannibal Lecter died, leaving behind only rehashes from Dr Chilton’s work. Even then, the juicier details were rebutted by multiple sources, most of them were from Hannibal himself. It is strangely fascinating to Jesse; how someone so refined and so gentlemanly be so cruel. Inhuman.

The links led him to Will Graham as well. That was the latest news that had gained the most hits, second after the reveal of the Chesapeake Ripper.

He has been missing for two months now. There was a pyre in his front yard, and in it the police found some unburnt bones belonging to Hannibal. In the house though, the only evidence that separated this case from a simple case of Missing Persons and outright murder was the amount of blood on the bedroom floor.

Freddie Lounds spared the detail of blood. Perhaps even she could not stomach it. That tantalised Jesse even more. This is _the_ True Crime mystery of the century.

Freddie ruled out suicide (obvious), animal attack (no signs of intrusion), or robbery (nothing of value was stolen). In fact, the house was immaculate and kept clean. Except the blood of course. That amount of blood, Freddie wrote, would also have left some amount of flesh, or even bones. It was impossible that nothing was left of Will Graham.

’ _Perhaps another ruse, that Will Graham had taken up Hannibal’s mantle, faked his own grotesque death, and ran away? That he will seek to honour Hannibal’s memory as the Chesapeake Ripper and began anew?_ ’

The article continued in its fanatical ramble, as pictures of Hannibal and Will, side by side, was placed throughout the paragraphs.

Jesse snorted, but he knew better. Well, he knew Freddie was wrong.

Because hunched in the corner of his room was an evershifting shadow of the Chesapeake Ripper and the man sought to kill, only to join him.

The Gods Of Murder and Mercy, or whatever the Internet forums had called them. Legend stated they will only appear if one truly, wholly, wished to kill. The desire will manifest itself into this... Thing.

He sat upright, sitting on the edge of his bed and pushed aside his laptop. The shadow shifts like an image through a lenticular screen, like how oil-black feathers of crow shine iridescent in bright sunlight only to return to darkness once in shade.

Jesse sees Hannibal in one moment, and Will the next, both occupying the same corner. Smiling, observing. Waiting patiently for this game to start.

”So, you guys will help me as long as I do this murder right?”

They nodded.

”Like, I won’t get caught right? That’s what the um, the Deep Web said.”

**As long as you listen to us.**

**And do as we say**.

Jesse swallowed, their voice like smooth molasses, tricking into his ears and down his throat, drowning any protest. 

“Okay. I want you to help me kill my family.”

A hesitation, and the shadow roiled.

**Why?**

Why indeed? That questioned require Jesse to defend his ridiculous position.

”My dad.“ Memories of abuse, years and years of it, lashed out upon his mom, his sister, himself, it made him frustrated to no end. Helpless at their cries, their pleas for help. Helpless at it all. His fists shook, wanting to scream at the shadow the end this _now_ , but a voice interrupted that train of thought, soothing him for now.

Hannibal’s form took over, and he purred.

”You seek vengeance.”

Jesse shook his head.

”No, mercy.” That was why he had summoned them in the first place. To ease his family’s passing.

Their forms shift, and inexplicably Jesse could see them both individually, clear as day, yet could not pinpoint where Hannibal ends and Wll began.

**Mercy?**

”Yeah. They don’t have to suffer anymore. I don’t want my shitty dad to get locked up. I want him dead.”

Their head tilt, smiling wide.

**Your other family members?**

”I-I feel that if... If I do this personally, it’s out of love. It’s out of love to honour them like so, right? They have suffered enough, this is... This is mercy. Life for them- my mom and sister depended on him. If I end him, they will be lost. I don’t want that, I want to- to preserve that last sliver of sanity.”

”So that they won’t be disappointed in me.”

**To kill them with your hands. Intimate. Their memories and souls will live on in you. Thrive with you.**

Their smile grew wider.

**Devour them. Their hearts. Raw.**

That grin grew so much wider. So much teeth, all razor sharp and ready to slice. Jesse shook. It was already too late for him. He had to do what was demanded of him, to keep up his end of the bargain.

**This shall be your Becoming.**

They dissolves briefly into the shadows, before reforming. Now two persons, so very human-like. But their eyes were red and they were crowned with the most beautiful halos. They lowered their heads, each of them kissing the side of Jesse’s cheeks. Reverant, proud. 

”This is your design.”

* * *

 

He struck at midnight. The shadows were in his favour. Muffle each struggle, licking up each drop of blood that was shed, and lulling everyone into a false sense of security.

This is the power of the Gods.

He could feel the light tugs of two warm hands as he plunged the knife so easily into his dad. He did not cry.

Next was his mom and sister. Jesse had to let them see him as he is, and see them as they are. He watched as Will and Hannibal curled their arms around them, to stop them from struggling. They looked up at him, that same swell of proud bubbling from within him once more.

”Swiftly, the neck.” Will beckoned and Jesse did as was asked. Everything that happened felt like slow-motion, like moving through water.

He watched, fascinated as blood bubbles and sprayed forward, but faded to nothing. He knows he is feeding the gods this sacrifice.

This worthy sacrifice.

”Through the heart.” Hannibal gestured, and Jesse plunged it through his own sister, watched her dazed eyes fade to nothing. He could feel the last few throbs of her heart, fluttering, and fade.

**Very good.**

They too, faded. Leaving behind the corpses of his family.

No blood on his hands. Even the knife is gone.

The police would not be able to chalk this up to him. 

This is it. Liberation-

**_EAT._ **

Jesse surged forwards. No, his body isn’t in control.

 ** _EAT_**.

He found himself digging, with his own hands, into their bowels. He can’t scream; his mouth is full of- he can’t even puke-

 ** _EVERYTHING. SO VERY HUNGRY_**.

Jesse cries as he shoved mouthful of flesh after flesh into his mouth.

**_THIS IS MERCY. HONOUR._ **

Gagging. He can’t eat anymore, his stomach hurts.

_**HEART. THEIR HEARTS. GIVE IT TO US**._

He went to collect all three hearts. Ribcages opened like briefcases. Opens with a snap.

He opened his mouth to eat. No more, he can’t-

The young man collapsed, blood pouring out of his mouth, eyes rolled up in terror. Dead.

Hannibal and Will stood over the carnage, admiring the simple savagery of humanity.

”Satisfied?” Will teased, as Hannibal hummed, bending over Jesse’s body to pluck the very last heart. He held it between themselves, eyes meeting.

”After you, my dear.”

”Bon appetit, Hannibal.”

* * *

 

‘ _Strings of mysterious, brutal murders started after Will’s disappearance. Coincidence? I think not._ ’

There are pictures of bodies devasted beyond recognition. But no blood remained.

’ _As though to imitate what Will had left behind, these murders are now simply attributed as the Ripping. No evidence left behind, no motive as well. That is exactly what the Chesapeake Ripper would do. Disguised as a Deep Web urban legend, these ‘Gods’ as they deem themselves to be, will continue to kill for others, for their own amusement.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah basically this is their honeymoon.
> 
> Written this in an hour, beta’d in half an hour... There might still be mistakes, but I hope you had fun watching these two lovebirds kill people by proxy hahaha


	4. Drip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to tie up loose ends. Like a noose it gleefully swings, waiting. Who shall step up the podium and hang themselves?
> 
> In the lull of this game they play, Will decides to adopt some unconventional fur friends.
> 
> Featuring:  
> Hellhounds, rimming, Will gets really happy for the first time in his fucking life, more murder, more human flesh eating, I’m sorry Freddie and Jack...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many things will happen in this chapter and I intend it to be the final chapter to this particular story.  
> There may be one-shots, but it’ll be part of the demon!Hannigram series. It’s not guaranteed whether i’ll be writing any, but maybe so! When muse and demands strikes xD  
> I’d like to thank each and every one of you readers for reading this story. If you really loved it, leave some kudos and tell me what appeals you!  
> Once again, enjoy this Hell of a ride...

 

> _And when I bite down_
> 
> _I don’t stop until my teeth are touching_
> 
> _I don’t stop until they meet._
> 
> _And when I’m hungry_
> 
> _I don’t rest until my fangs are bloody_
> 
> _I’m not restin’ ‘til I eat._
> 
> \- DRIP

 

”Dogs?”

”Mmhm. Well,” Will’s tongue curled at the syllables, lounging naked on Hannibal’s lap. His other half, well-dressed as always to keep up his unnecessary person-suit, pinched a plump grape from a nearby table, pushing it into Will’s devilish mouth. He chewed with delight, before swallowing and returning to his rant.

”Hellhounds, to be exact. They are adorable. And they can live in Hell, unlike actual dogs. They deserve heaven.” He leaned into Hannibal’s chest, their entwined tails swishing idly.

It had been a while since they get to enjoy some semblance of freedom on Earth. They had been... Busy. Leaving their sonnets of murder along their wake, a big ‘fuck you’ to the FBI especially.

And now they find themselves together in Hannibal’s old house. The current residents of this house were predisposed, in their bellies.

”How many?” Hannibal asked cautiously, plucking another grape and feeding it to Will. 

“Mm. One for each soul damned by us?” He replied with a sheepish smile, to which Hannibal let out an exasperated sigh.

”Will...”

”Hannibal...” He purred with the same inflection, teasing. A peck on the cheek, and Hannibal returned with a press of lips in his dark curls. How easily his resolution crumbles under the ever flirtatious, ever maddening boy.

”Ten. That’s all.”

A compromise then. Will could play this game.

”How many more dogs can I get with a blowjob?” His hand between Hannibal’s thighs, trapped under him. Not touching, simply giving him a notion of what is to come. Hannibal is unfazed.

Will sighed, jumping off of Hannibal. Immediately, through the intangible psychic link of their souls, they lament the loss of that heat. Sharp, painful longing, even for just a moment. Will turned around to stare at Hannibal, who returned the stare with the same indifference. 

“You’re being awfully melodramatic for someone who loves being in control.” He deadpanned, pulling away his own tail from Hannibal’s. This time he sees the calm facade fade into longing.

Their weakness is their strength; being so conjoined that any distance between them is akin to stretching an elastic band to its limit. They would never break, but it pulled them taut. And it hurts like hell.

”Shh.” Will went down on his knees, spreading his legs open. “I’ll treat you right, as long as I get my dogs.”

Hannibal closed his eyes in defeat. “Just one more.”

At least he relented, albeit just a bit of space stubbornly. He ducked his head between his muscled thighs, mouthing at the bulge that is increasingly growing bigger.

Through their link he could feel his own mouth against his own cock, and that drove his resolve to the ground. Greedily lapping at the cloth that separated cock from mouth he moaned, as though going down on himself.

”Fuck, this never gets old.” Will was already coming undone, the tension of an impending orgasm fraying at his nerves. Maybe one dog is enough-

“Will,” Hannibal sounded just as undone, all sweat and flushed skin. Even the usual red iris gave way to the black of his pupils. “I want to eat you out and then plunge my cock inside of you.”

Will groaned into his crotch, burying his nose in the crook between thigh and bulge. Somehow, by talking like that he had quietly came, the white splotches of come staining the carpet below them.

”Keep talking.” How is he so easily affected today? This was not even good dirty talk; it’s just Hannibal forgetting his words and manners. His stamina was akin to a teenager’s, all horny hormones and no control.

He felt long fingers against his scalp, before they dug in like talons and jerked Will’s head up so their eyes meet. There was a glint of slyness in Hannibal’s eyes, and Will could only imagine what he was going to do to him. In fact, there was nothing to imagine about as Hannibal easily pushes his face into the dirtied carpet, and his foot pressing against his skull.

”Clean up after yourself.”

Will snarled, bristling. A wreath of feathers surrounding his neck and chest shimmer into the light as his anger fuelled his demonic essence. Hannibal’s lip tugged into a smile, and his foot did not budge.

”I’ll allow another hellhound if you’re obedient.” This is just a bargaining chip now. Promises exchanged just to watch the other squirm. Will huffed, his visage fading back to human, before his lips pressed against the mess he made and he began licking it up.

 “You are a delicate mess, Will Graham. Everything you do had tempt me into giving in. A Pyrrhic victory, don’t you think? We have burned so much to get here, and yet, frustrating as you are to work with, to become one with, I desire you. I desire everything about you.”

Will wishes he could look at at how Hannibal spoke about him. He had seen it multiple times throughout his life and death; that kind of reverence that only Gods could enjoy. Hannibal reserved that worship for him and him only.

He continued to lap up the mess, the carpet soaked with his saliva. The pressure behind his head did not relent, but Hannibal had already shifted and moving around him. He realised as Hannibal stepped away, the unrelenting pressure was probably some funky demon magic.

”Our fusion was divine. Orgasmic, even. I felt every part of you that I had not yet known, every fort that you once built breached, and every thought that once was yours became mine. As I yours, Will.” Hannibal’s breath was grazing his ear, hot and quick. When he spoke it was hushed, and any quieter it would be silence. The words were meant for Will alone; God above had no business listening in.

Will jerked his head against the pressure, finding it near impossible to do anything except resting his chin against the carpet and hope for no rugburns when Hannibal gets rowdy with him. His asscheeks were currently spread apart, and the wet muscle that prodded eagerly at his hole... Nothing could prepare him for how fucking _good_ it feels.

”H-Hannibal, this is- _ohhh my- fuck-_ ” Will rasped, hips twitching back to get more of that devious tongue within him. It curled and dug deeper, while scissoring him open. Forked tongues be damned, this felt way too good. He has had hesitation over hygiene, but after eating raw guts and flesh hygiene was but a secondary thought.

Hannibal’s own moan rumbled through the muscle, and the vibration was making it all better and worse at the same time. “You like eating ass, huh?” Another low purr and the insistent press of hot wet tongue was all he answered, and that was enough. Will spread his legs further, trying to gain leverage by propping his knees up. His neck is sore by now, but the way Hannibal curled his tongue just right, barely brushing against the prostate gland, made it all the more worth it.

Will let out a shaky moan, half laughing. “Fuck me now. Your cock can go so much deeper, please.”

The slippery muscle was replaced by one finger, then two, three, in quick succession. The sting of the stretch was good; pain was good. Anything Hannibal gave him will be good.

And _fuck_ if his beloved was anything but a tease. The slow push and pull of fingers was not enough. He curled up, and there it was: that momentary pleasure that did nothing to sate him. Only served to make him impatient. Hannibal knows it too, far too well. Damn this psychic link.

After gruelling minute after minute of slow-burning torture, Hannibal finally relented. The blunt cockhead presses against his rim, and Will lets out a loud moan, loud enough to worry that perhaps their neighbours could hear. Maybe they would run over in panic and they could **kill** -

“Will, no killing for tonight. I want them to find us when we want to, no sooner-“ Hannibal’s voice barely wavered as he slid into him. “No later.”

”Nn.” Will could only respond in breaths and small hitches of pleasures groans, now that the heat of himself overwhelms them, the pleasure like a feedback loop, feeding into itself. It only serves to amplify everything, all desires, all needs to consume and fuck.

”Please, I’ve been good.” Will grunted out when the other demon did not move, still enjoying the tight grip of his asshole. His tail wrapped around Hannibal’s waist, entwining whatever that remains with the other’s tail. The close proximity, that sense of being conjoined once more, made both of them sigh.

”Not enough.” Whether he meant by  or the pleasure lacking, Will did not know, but he definitely knows that the way Hannibal began to snap his hips forward was enough for him.

”There, _there_ , oh fuck, Hannibal...” Will gripped uselessly at the carpet, his knees bracing as Hannibal began pummeling into him. A rough, hard fuck is all he needs. Will would give anything to have his lover pound into him rashly. “Harder, dammit!”

Except for hellhounds. He _really_ wants those puppies.

”For this,” Hannibal pants, hips undulating for a brief respite. “One, for obedience. Another, for being able to be a slut and take it all in so nicely,” He starts up the unrelenting rhythm, making Will’s neck creak painfully. “Five for being so delightfully delicious.”

”A litter of eight, then?” Will laughed, a light sound that made Hannibal’s heart soar. How he wanted to hear that happiness, the pure delight that would make Heaven jealous. Oh how he had found Heaven within Hell, within this brilliant soul called Will Graham. The demon in the forefront of Hannibal’s thoughts chuckled, trying to ram his ass back into Hannibal’s hips.

”We can make love and talk sweet nothings to each other after sex. Now please, _Doctor Lecter_ , fuck me until I can’t remember my name.”

Hannibal used Will’s shoulders as leverage and fucked him deep, hard and fast, as Will’s words faded into babbles and pleas of moans. 

It did not take long for both Hannibal and Will to come, in perfect synchronicity, as their cocks swelled with come and twitched, spilling and spurting for all its worth. Their souls filled to the brim with debased pleasure, shattering their disguises. Wings unfurled and halo burning bright, two unholy creatures united as one through carnal consummation. 

Then the pressure behind Will’s head finally dissapated, rolling his head to iron out the kinks in his neck. He felt sore. He felt good.

Hannibal pulled out, watching the ridiculous amount of come dripping out of Will and licked his lips.

”For each orgasm I will give you while I eat you out, I will consider your offer.”

”Oh fuck yes.”

* * *

 

Jack’s face was stony, if stone were carved to look like pissed off detectives.

The forensics came back with nothing. Well, some things, but it was a mash of human flesh. There was nothing to glean because there was too many different DNAs. Too many victims.

Jack’s jaw clenched hard. “Zeller, Price, take all the pictures and we’ll let the crime scene cleaners deal with it.” He nodded at Katz. “A word.”

Katz followed, somber as she fell in step with Jack, stepping out of the observatory tower. 

“Are you sure?” Jack’s question was urgent and quiet.

She held up the zip-locked bag with a blood covered envelope and raised her eyebrow. “The others found it deep within that... Mess. I didn’t want to believe it at first because... It might be just another crazy person who got inspired but,” She shrugged, eyeing the bag like it was cursed. “It seems just like Doctor Lecter’s handwriting.”

Jack snatched it out of her hand, turning the piece of damning evidence in his hand. Despite the blood, the words on the front of the envelop was clear. 

_ Dr. Hannibal Graham-Lecter _

_ To Jack Crawford _

He would have it analysed thoroughly, until each atom was tracked down to its very source.

”Handwriting needs to be analysed. And keep this a secret. Even from Price and Zeller.” He handed it back to Katz, who frowned deeply.

”Sure thing boss.”

Jack strode away, feet heavy with trepidation. He did not even need to read its contents.

It is a dinner invitation.

* * *

Freddie Lounds skulked around the crime scene. It must be the Ripper’s copycat again, striking whenever their muse suit their fancy. And whatever that was inside must be rather gruesome, judging from Jack’s grim expression.

Perfect TattleCrime material.

She knows this place well; she had been here for multiple occasions, finding very ‘special’ gifts from time to time. Of course, that was with the Chesapeake Ripper’s open invitation. Now it feels like she is sneaking in to take a peek at their art exhibition.

The back door was conveniently broken in, its lock smashed open. Quietly she crept around the various equipments covered in tarp, but even before seeing the scene she could already smell the awfully familiar smell of death.

And a hint of some terrible aftershave.

Freddie covered her mouth to prevent gagging and the stench from assaulting her nose, albeit it barely worked. She just needed to be quiet.

The scene looked like a 80s horror film. Blood pooled around the mountain of red flesh, and organs haphazardly scattered all around and draped across lighting fixture. It towered over her, and everyone else. Garish. Savage. Damn near culty.

Some staff were still hanging around, trying to sort through this mess. This will take weeks, probably. Months even, to identify the victims. Though she had an idea of whose victims they belong to.

She takes a few quick snapshots. A chill went down her spine. Instincts told her to run, run as far away as she could.

She left in a hurry. Lingering there made her feel small, like a rat trapped in a cage. It felt like the Ripper’s copycat was watching her all these while.

Fuck.

* * *

 

The pitter-patter of two dozen four-legged puppies were setting Hannibal on edge. 

The shed fur will be monumental. Training them would take years.

And yet he allowed this to happen.

The puppies were yapping and squealing in delight, having their first day out of hell and scampering around their house. They left behind in their wake a trail of sulphuric stench, burnt flesh, and a whole lot of mess.

Peeing on their couch. Their carpet. One even pissed on the mahogany table.

Hannibal gritted his teeth and pinched his fingers together. 

Then the merry sound of laughter cut through the chaos as Will ran around the house, his herd of hellhounds loyally trodding after.

At least _someone_ found it amusing.

Hannibal tolerates; Will delights. And for once, it was Heaven on earth.

 

Will tired himself out, and so did the puppies. He draped himself across Hannibal with a handful of hellhound puppies in his arms. They were all snoring up a storm, but Hannibal found himself rather attached to the idea of domesticity, with just a couple of dogs. If he did not die prematurely, the good doctor would have brought Will around Europe, across the Middle East, far into China and perhaps even Japan. 

Now though? They have Hell to run, souls to damn, but also an eternity to spend. He could not have asked for anything better, as long as Will is at his side. The sleeping demon, human-shaped and vulnerable, curled closer to Hannibal, nuzzling against his warmth.

He gingerly pushed stray curls off of his face, to watch the serene expression, so relaxed and blissful. 

Wonderful.

He checks the time. Jack would arrive soon, and Freddie soon after. The messages they sent were clear.

Jack will come out of duty and loyalty; Freddie, out of fear and pride. 

He nudge Will, who blinked blearily at Hannibal. The tired demon grinned, kissing him.The puppies began to stir, yawning squeaks surrounding them.

”Is it time, beloved?”

* * *

Jack read the contents of the letter, curiosity getting the better of him. 

_ Dear Jack Crawford, _

_ I humbly extend my dinner invitation to you and your plus one (if any) at my house. It would be remiss of me not to make it up to you the last time we were supposed to enjoy a meal. _

_ Afterall, it is great to have an old friend for dinner. _

_ I would like to formally introduce my husband as well, Will Graham-Lecter. He had been eagerly anticipating your presence, and would like to use this special occasion to thank you for all the care and guidance you have given to him throughout his professional stinct at the FBI. _

_ Dinner starts promptly at 7 pm sharp. _

_ Please dress comfortably.  _

_ Yours, _

_ Dr. Hannibal Graham-Lecter _

He crushed weighted paper, suspciously clean of any blood that may have been soaked through the envelop. Whatever games this new copycat is playing, it has to stop. This is insult to injury.

”Team, we will set up an ambush for the Ripper copycat.”

 

Freddie sat at a ramshackle motel room, browsing the photos she had taken from the crime scene, but not dwelling on any one for long.

Until one caught her eye.

It might have been the trick of her camera, or just her mind figuring out patterns like faces on inanimate objects. But this was clear, deliberate. Someone had set this all up for a reason. 

She stitched the various pictures she had taken, piecing together a gruesone puzzle. Photo by photo, the awkwardly placed organs and painted blood revealed words, ones that cannot be seen until pictures were taken from another angle.

The backdoor. The tarp-covered furnitures. Organs on fixtures. The words can only be pieced together from where she stood.

COME FIND US FREDDIE.

 

The clock ticks on, each passing second a slow march. The puppies returned to Hell where they will be free to roam and torture poor souls. Hannibal and Will dressed their Sunday best. Hannibal, with a sheer red suit and a tie patterned with red ambrosias, hair slicked up as usual. Will as well, hair done up, but he preferred a muted brown with a black shirt inside. Both of them wore a gold band on their fourth fingers. Their fingers interlocking, kissing at the promise of eternal love.

”I love you, Hannibal.”

”I love you as well, Will.”

 

The door flew open, and Jack walks in alone. For a house that is sold to an old couple with no known helpers, the house was kept incredibly clean. It was dark too.

The kitchen lights were on.

Voices, murmuring, before a laugh. Jack could not really tell who was laughing. It was a male’s voice.

Has he finally cornered the Ripper’s copycat?

He has snipers in every window. Better for him to lead the charge than sacrifice a team of well-trained officers. The SWAT team would have scared them off.

A lone wolf tactic, for minimum losses and maximum gain.

He toed off his shoes, silently stalking through the halls. The living room was empty. Untouched. Even the hearth had smouldered a long time ago. He began to worry for the couple who lived here. They might not even be alive anymore.

He slid closer to the kitchen, gun drawn, safety off. Be aware of your surroundings. Be aware of-

He swept his gun towards the kitchen doorway.

He could not believe his fucking eyes.

Hannibal Lecter.

Will Graham.

And they were both in the midst of talking, grinning, drinking. So... Casual. So very alive.

His heart leapt at his throat. This is... This...

”Come sit down, Jack. Let me get your coat for you.” Jack raised his gun towards Hannibal who approached him, and he backed off, palms up to show he was holding nothing. 

And then he looks at Will, who is smiling as well. 

Wrong, this is wrong. Was he wrong all these while?

”Will, where had you been?”

The man stayed where he was, at the head of the table, swirling and sipping wine. “I’ve been here. Where have you been? Late for ten minutes. Tardiness is unacceptable.”

”Now now, Will, he has reasons to be skeptical. An invitation found at a crime scene that was signed by a dead man would stir suspicion.”

Jack could radio in his snipers. Two headshots would be easy. But he needs answers.

”It wasn’t very neat, we apologise,” Will set down his glass of wine, raising an eyebrow at Jack. “Oh, don’t bother with reinforcements.They can’t really kill us.”

”Because you are dead.”

**BECAUSE WE ARE GODS.**

Jack nearly jumped out of his skin. He takes a few steps back. The two... Dead men, seemed unfazed by that loud voice.

”Please, do take a seat.”

”We insist.”

”Or we have to take some desperate measures.”

“We don’t like rude people, do we?”

They grin like wolves.

 

Jack sat himself at the other head of the table. The guest of honour. The other two bracketed him at his sides. Food was already prepared, garnished to perfection.

He was served rare steak.

He watched with clear disgust as Will and Hannibal dug in, as though there was nothing wrong with dining with cannibals.

Everything is wrong, and their calm behaviours even more so. He opened his mouth to speak, but Will cleared his throat.

”We can answer your questions, but please, take a bite. It’s good.” 

Jack hesitates, the notion of eating human meat making acid rise from his stomach. He tried to pause as long as possible, until the other men stared him down.

He sliced the meat, and took a bite. It tasted good. The sentiment it marinated on was not.

Will smiles, raising a glass to toast. “To our reunion.” Hannibal followed suit, and Jack finally, reluctantly toasting.

”Questions?”

Another hesitation. Too many, in fact. How is Hannibal alive? Where had Will been off to? He was presumed dead with the sheer amount of blood found in his house, so why now? What happened to the couple that lived here? He breathes in, giving voice to his questions-

“Ressurection ritual.”

”With me, in Hell.”

”Because we want to see you, Jack.”

”We ate them.”

And then they stared once more, grinning. They have tasted blood in their food, and they are starving. His gun is-

It happened in an instant.

Will struck first, pinning one of Jack’s arm to the table, eyes fixated on his face, as though to capture each moment of this finality. Hannibal drew his steak knife from the table, the sharp end digging under his neck. With all the strength he could muster, the blade drew sharp and straight, through all the arteries and veins of his neck, through his throat, and out from the other side. Near decapitation. 

Jack gurgled, choked, the blood filling up his mouth and down his throat, spilling everywhere except on Will and Hannibal. Both of them, watching with fascination in their eyes.

Watching as Jack’s life fades by the second, his heart beating faster and faster, compensating the loss of pressure.

He thinks about Bella.

Perhaps this too, is mercy.

 

Freddie entered the house. She pulled out her lockpick, dropping it with a curse. Upon picking it up she realised the door creaked open silently. It was dark as hell inside, and she was shaking. Not from the cold, but from the dread. 

She knew Jack would have dropped by first. She is the carrion vulture that fed on scraps after everyone else had taken their fair share of fresh meat. This house looked like a meal presented for someone else, not her. 

She could still run. Post it up on TattleCrime and watch her fans tear themselves a new one trying to figure out what the hell the subliminal message meant. Or they would turn on her, calling her a ‘troll’ and ‘fake news’. Sabotage her own reputation.

No. If she has to, she will seek the truth. Her version of the truth, one that appeals to the masses. Reputations be damned, as long as it’s not hers. Hannibal’s and Will’s could be dragged through mud and shit and she would not care.

The reporter takes a deep breath. To the truth then, and all its consequences.

She dug out her flashlight, the beam lighting up her way. Her bag will be her shield, and her light her sword. Whatever happens, take a picture, get out. A memory of her morbid discovery within Will’s shed crawled into her mind. If Will was truly on Hannibal’s side she would have been dead. If she was not useful enough.

Freddie can only bank on the hope that whoever she found in there, she would be useful alive. And be useful for a very long time.

Her flashlight swept around the living area. Nothing. She considered going upstairs, but it would be akin to trapping herself there.

A sudden knock made her gasp in shock. Something in the kitchen. Perhaps rats? She scoffed at the idea of this house- Hannibal’s house for crying out loud- being a breeding ground for rats due to poor upkeep. Although she vaguely remembers this house being sold cheap to some clueless occupants.

As she approached the kitchen, a few things happened.

All the lights came on.

She was drenched in an awful, burning liquid, stinging her eyes.

“A fate you deserve.”

And Freddie Lounds is set on fire, screaming and burning.

 

The house burns, along with the memories it contained. Will and Hannibal held hands, watching their pyre rise higher, the flames licking against the heavens. Feels the fire ravage against their false skins, as everything around them burnt. Higher and higher, hotter and hotter.

It doesn’t hurt, not when their other half is here.

It will never hurt.

—

_In a flash, the wicked won._

_Oh the moment seemed so, moments seemed so clear._

_I’ll rest your weary head beside my own._

_I will take these clothes and cover you, my dear._

_God bless your soul._

_He has not blessed mine._

_-[FAWN](https://youtu.be/pkLeOMGyUss)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do listen to Crywolf’s widow [OBLIVION Pt. 1] album~ He is my writing muse when I started this piece. It sets the mood for each chapter :3  
> Thank you everyone for this amazing journey~ I didn’t expect my very first Hannigram fic to be so well received :D  
> It became a monster I didn’t know it could become, and it’s beautiful.
> 
> Check me out @ninayoshi27 on Twitter <3


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